


Life and Death

by EmLeeKoe



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Anxiety, Blood, Brothers, Death, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Family, Gen, Grief, Hurt No Comfort, Loss, Nightmares, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmLeeKoe/pseuds/EmLeeKoe
Summary: Set after the arena battle, between Smoke and Iron and Sword and Pen.In a dream, Jess searches for his brother, forgetting he’s dead.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Life and Death

When Jess Brightwell opened his eyes, he was in his bedroom, in his family’s townhouse in London.

Of course he was. He’d always lived there. He always would. He’d never be anything but a book smuggler, like his father before him, and his father before him. He’d woken up from a dream that was already slipping away like ash cast to the wind, a dream wherein he traveled far and wide, met new people, did things he’d never even imagined himself doing—but that had, of course, been fantasy, and even now the last fragments of memory were disintegrating.

Rolling out of bed, he dressed and opened his bedroom door, finding himself in the entrance to the dining room with no memory of the walk there.

“That’s odd,” he said aloud.

“What’s odd?” asked his mother, seated at the foot of the table, clad in a dark blue dress. He could smell her lavender scent from the doorway.

“I—” Jess blinked, his mind going blank. “I can’t remember.”

“Go find your brother,” said his father from the head of the table, newspaper in one hand, mug of strong black tea in the other. He didn’t so much as look at Jess.

“Yes, Da.” Jess turned around, though his stomach growled at the sight of the platters of fried eggs, bacon, tomatoes, and mushrooms on the table, and he was in one of his father’s warehouses. Something niggled at him. Something wasn’t quite right. In the back of his mind, he thought he knew what it was, but he couldn’t quite grasp it, and it was bothering him. A vague sense of unease settled in his chest as he wandered through the shelves of illegal books, gazing up into the rafters. He thought he saw his brother, but when he stopped and looked harder, it was just a bit of torn cloth dangling from one of the beams high overhead.

Cursing, he peered behind another shelf and found nothing but cobwebs and dust.

Then he heard the door open behind him, and when he whirled, he saw a flash of Brendan’s back as he ran through. The door slammed shut just as Jess reached it, and he yanked on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He cursed again and turned to use the back door.

He was in the Inklicker’s opulent carriage, panting from exertion, feeling his stomach twist as he watched the smiling man tear another page from the priceless tome and shove it into his gaping maw, crushing it with his ink-stained teeth.

“You’re mad!” he felt himself screaming before he could think twice, and the Inklicker’s cane bashed him in the side of the head. He spun with the impact as he fell backward, and found himself landing on Brendan’s bed.

“Scraps!” he said when he’d got his breath back, the first word he could force out.

But Brendan wasn’t there, either. He was growing tired of chasing his brother around. First, the dining room, and then—where else had he been? He couldn’t remember, and the bad feeling in the back of his mind grew stronger, making him dizzy.

He stumbled to the door on legs that felt as unreal as the dream he’d been having before he’d awoken in his bedroom, opened it, and there was Brendan, in their father’s library, lounging on a plush chair, a leg slung over one chair arm. One hand supported his head, elbow resting on the other arm of the chair, and the other held a book.

“Brendan,” Jess said, finding it hard to make his voice cooperate. There was something, something…

“Brother.” Brendan shut the book with a _crack_ that echoed around the room, much louder than it should have been. “You’ve been looking for me?”

“It’s—” Jess faltered, wondering why his throat was seizing up, as if he were trying not to cry. “It’s time for breakfast.”

Brendan chuckled, and Jess caught a glimpse of bright red when his mouth opened. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Jess couldn’t breathe. “Come on,” he said. “Just come with me.”

“No,” he said; “I have to go.”

“Go where?” Jess felt as if a thin wall of glass separated him from the terrible knowledge; his heartbeat was a drumroll.

“You know where.” Brendan stood, putting down his book, and Jess followed him into the hallway, to the front door.

“Don’t go, brother,” said Jess; as Brendan reached for the handle, Jess saw the wound in his back, weeping blood, a lake of it, a river, an ocean.

The wall of glass shattered, and the knowledge forced Jess to his knees, unable to inhale.

“Please,” he sobbed. “Don’t leave me. Scraps, don’t go.”

Brendan half-turned. A smile that was half-fond and half-mocking spread slowly across his face. “I told you not to call me that.” He turned the handle and opened the door; white light, brighter than the brightest Alexandrian sun, shone through, blinding Jess.

He screamed wordlessly as Brendan stepped into the light, and the door slammed shut.

Gasping, Jess opened his eyes, and when he did not recognize the bedroom in which he awoke, his entire body tensed, ready for a fight. He couldn’t relax until the memories trickled in, memories of Thomas cleaning the blood from his skin, putting him to bed, staying with him until he finally fell asleep, because Brendan—Brendan was gone. Had been killed. Jess closed his eyes, the weight of grief dragging him down into the soft mattress to suffocate and never see the light of day again.

“Awake, Brightwell?” said a familiar voice; cracking one eye open, Jess glanced toward its source and saw none other than Scholar Wolfe, sprawled on a chair in the corner. “About time. Dreams?”

“No,” Jess lied.


End file.
